Bats and Bubbles
by ArellaoftheLuvara
Summary: Dick walks in on Bruce taking a bubble bath... and that's not even the best part.


**A/N:** I wrote this a couple weeks ago to fill a prompt over at the YJ anon meme. Belatedly adding it here as well.

Prompt: Robin walks in on Batman taking a bubble bath, may the harassment begin!  
>gen please, and bonus if Bats was singing the 'rubber ducky' song<p>

* * *

><p>The door might have been made of the same thick, sturdy wood as every other door in the mansion, but it was hardly soundproofing. Particularly not in a room comprised largely of tile and porcelain. That was definitely Bruce's voice coming from within the bathroom, with a distinct lilt that could only mean one thing:<p>

Bruce was singing. _Cheerfully._

As far as Dick knew, Bruce wasn't the type to sing in the shower- or anywhere, really, since Batman would be less _feared_ and more _ridiculed_ if he ever became associated with karaoke. Granted, this was his home and he wasn't likely to run into Two-Face or Flash here, but... Dick had only ever heard Bruce sing to him, as a kid- not counting the numerous, ear-wracking times Bruce played the drunk-off-his-ass party boy- and that had pretty much stopped after he became Robin.

Dick wouldn't be the protégé of the World's Greatest Detective if he didn't investigate this. Carefully twisting the golden handle down, he hoped Bruce wasn't looking that way as he eased the door open a sliver and let the door handle straighten out.

"-joy of joys."

Wait. Was that…?

"When I squeeze you, you make noise."

It was. That was_ squeaking._ And it was coming from the bathroom, punctuating Bruce's deep baritone at the end of each line_._

"Rubber duckie you're my very best friend, it's true."

Oh. My. God.

"Oh, every day when I make my way to the tuuubby  
>I find a little fellow who's-"<p>

"_Bruce?"_

In his defense, Dick honestly hadn't meant to interrupt- or, well, _barge in- _but explanations were rapidly becoming crucial as thoughts of concussions, drugs, and alternate realities ran through his mind. Although he'd been sure to keep his gaze raised towards the ceiling, he still caught a flash of yellow-black disappearing beneath massive mounds of bubbles in a bathtub that could comfortably hold four or five people.

"Dick?"

Assured that he wouldn't accidentally see anything he really,really wouldn't want to, Dick met Bruce's inquiring gaze. Anyone else might have thought Bruce as calm as ever, if slightly surprised at being interrupted in the bathroom. Years of practice and experience, however, allowed Dick to interpret his mentor's barely-narrowed eyes and vaguely-tensed lips as worry rather than disapproval.

"I- are you taking a bubble bath?" He wasn't quite capable of keeping the disbelief out of his voice just yet, because honestly? The bubbles were the _least_ of it.

Bruce's features evened out. "I'm experimenting with a formula that should help heal bruising faster. Adding foaming surfactants to the mix disperses it more thoroughly into the water."

"So it's a _healing_ bubble bath?"

In response Bruce's expression darkened, flat gaze clearly questioning what Dick was doing in the bathroom in the first place.

"Oh. I'd just wanted to find you to see about spending the weekend at Wally's." Dick paused. "It can wait."

He retreated to the door, then glanced back with one hand on the handle. "So, the bubbles I understand. What's with the rubber duck?"

Bruce's hand must have twitched under the water, because a splash of disrupted water and bubbles resolved into a bright yellow duck: a duck complete with black cape, painted cowl, and a little bat symbol on its chest.

Dick blinked, a smirk spreading across his face. The duck had already vanished beneath a mound of opaque bubbles, but they both knew it was far too late for that. Laughing quietly, he backed the rest of the way out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him to hide a grin that would have made the Joker proud.

"Enjoy your bubble bath, Bruce."

* * *

><p>Dick got to spend the weekend with his best friend, and it was all the sweeter knowing he didn't have extra training in the Batcave waiting to make up for the missed days. Wally had no idea why the two of them spent three hours in Central City's mall finding the loudest, most obnoxious squeaking dog toys they could, only for Dick to cut them up and extract the squeakers once they got home. The Boy Wonder cackled the entire time. Wally was a little afraid to ask, especially when Dick, wielding a gleaming pair of scissors, sat surrounded by fluff and bits of cloth, a heap of round white squeakers piled between them.<p>

For weeks afterward it seemed like every chair, couch, or cushion Bruce sat on let out a loud, plaintive squeak in protest. Not even the Batmobile was safe. Barry _had_ to have planted the one in the Watchtower, but when he, too, failed to mention rubber ducks or bubble baths Bruce had to conclude his ward was keeping the... incident... to himself.

The night Batman and Robin had a particularly brutal encounter with Killer Croc, Bruce realized he wouldn't have to worry about Dick sharing embarrassing blackmail material anytime soon. While the young teenager shuffled off to his own suite of rooms to sleep, Bruce resisted the urge to lock his bathroom door as he filled the large tub with water. Bruce Wayne had an important meeting the next afternoon he really couldn't cancel, which meant he had to do everything possible tonight to reduce the large bruise swelling across his jaw and cheek. Make-up would cover what was left.

Reaching past the assorted clutter of bottles under the cabinet between the sinks, Bruce extracted the small basket with his contusion-reducing formula. He popped the tab on the bottle with one hand while setting the basket aside on the foot-wide ledge running between tub and wall. Bath prepped, he climbed in and sank down with measured movements, suppressing a groan as battered muscles encountered warm water. After a minute or two he reached for the basket without looking. Bruce frowned when his searching fingers encountered _two_ knobby rubber heads, only one of which possessed the pointy ear-tips of the bat duck. Grasping both, he pulled them out, shifting his grip to hold them flat on his hand. Bruce stared.

On the left was the familiar bat duck.

On the right, domino mask and all, was a red and yellow Robin duck.

Five minutes later, Bruce began to- quietly- sing.


End file.
